


here, beneath my lungs

by gloriousmonsters



Category: Naruto
Genre: M/M, Pre-Canon, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 06:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15067631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloriousmonsters/pseuds/gloriousmonsters
Summary: After his son is born, Kagami returns home early from a stint as an ambassador in Kumo.





	here, beneath my lungs

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a pwp what happened 
> 
> technically a wee bit canon divergent, but let's face it, canon Naruto is canon divergent 
> 
> from the prompt 'homecoming'; title from 'welcome home' by Radical Face. enjoy fellas

He has to make his way past Hiruzen first, answer a dozen more-or-less relevant questions about Kumo and hand over his son to be admired; sit down with the ANBU for a bit of questioning that didn’t seem exactly routine for an ambassador returning home, and was nowhere near as brief as they promised; by the time he’s turned loose in the village proper, Kagami is feeling almost as tired as Shisui, who is making little muttering wails every few minutes, sounds. It’s at that point a girl wearing a variation of the ANBU uniform appears behind his shoulder, startling the hell out of him, and then apologetically sidles around to his front to give her message. She’s bare-faced, with a birdlike mask clipped to her belt, and from her features he’d guess she’s around eighteen.

“Danzo-sama wanted you to know that he would have come to greet you, but there is much work to do,” she informs him, tugging on her hair before seeming to become aware of the tic and snapping her hand down at her side again. “He will see you tonight at home, if that is agreeable.”

He can’t tell if the message was really that formal to begin with, or whether she’s just running it through her own personal translator. “Yes, that would be… fine.” ‘Agreeable’ was for diplomatic letters. And certain kinds of threatening letters. “What’s your name?”

She salutes crisply. “Harumi of Root, sir.”

That was something Danzo had mentioned, a few letters back; stripping clan names entirely. Many of them had none, he wrote, or none worth mentioning; and it put them at odds with the children that came from notable clans, even if they hadn’t inherited any particular strength. Kagami had tried to think, for a couple of days, of how to explain to Danzo that he was essentially creating his own clan, through a far more robust version of the Senju’s ‘adopt every child that crosses our path’ tactic, and finally settled on ‘sounds effective’ instead. Root seemed to be taking on a life of its own, from the scraps of accounts he received, developing its own distinct identity and a vicious, kicking-under-the-table rivalry with the ANBU. Kagami hadn’t decided yet whether he was delighted or unsettled by that, and was hoping to finally form an opinion now that he was back in the village. He shifted Shisui more comfortably on his arm, noting Harumi’s fascinated and mildly disgusted glance at the baby, and said, “Does the clan know I’m back yet?”

“The clan heads do, sir,” she said immediately. “The Uchiha clan at large, no. It should take until tomorrow for the news to spread.”

Maybe he can have one quiet night. He winces as Shisui grabs one of his longer curls and yanks on it, and adds a haircut to his mental agenda. “Do you know if Utatane Koharu is at home?”

“Her and Mitokado Homura both, sir, and she did stop me on the way to say that if you asked, they were expecting you. She is currently occupied with…” Harumi’s lips move silently for a moment, an argument for the ‘personal translation’ theory. “Correcting her students on some issues that have arisen in their training.”

Making her poor team clean the entire house because one of them fumbled a mission, then. Kagami grinned. “You carry a lot of messages between the councils, huh?” Before she could answer, he added “And the ‘sir’ isn’t really necessary. I’m off duty at the moment.”

“Yes… Kagami-san. Danzo-sama appreciates my skill in…” She taps her fingers together. “Rephrasing.”

“I’m sure you’ll only see more work as time goes on. Off to a mission after this?”

“No, Kagami-san, just some training and then I have the evening off. I and some others…” She broke off, looking a little embarrassed, but at Kagami’s encouraging nod she continued. “We’re going down to an izakaya tonight that’s also popular with ANBU, for some—” A pause. “Friendly competition.”

“Oh? And how do you think that’s going to go?”

There’s a twitch around her mouth, a suppressed grin. “I believe they may potentially grow to understand that our training and abilities are an improvement on theirs.”

Kagami laughed. “I wish you luck. And I won’t keep you any longer.”

She saluted again, with a brief flash of a smile, and melted back into the shadows. Kagami finds himself going over her features in his mind, trying to guess whether she was a Konoha bloodline or one of Danzo’s war orphans and strays, and shakes his head at himself. “Doesn’t matter much, does it?” he said to Shisui, who made a bubbling noise and tried to grab his hair again. Whatever her past, Harumi seemed more than happy with her current job. In that respect she reminded him of Danzo’s earliest strays and orphans, back before he came up with the idea of Root, back when he just kept bringing children back from whatever destroyed bit of land they were passing through recently; they always had a certain fervent, quiet joy in whatever work they took on around the village. Gratitude for the stability, how war was always kept at arm’s length by Konoha’s meticulously designed defenses. _They keep the spirit of the village alive,_ Danzo had told him once. _Other people have begun to take it for granted, but they understand what it means. Safety._

And well, there were a fair few people who would disagree with that, but Kagami can’t help but agree a little. Even tired as he is, remarkably informed as he is to the divided factions the village housed, knowing that he’ll have to deal with his clan sooner or later, just looking up at the trees overhead makes a weight lift off his shoulders. It is his village, his home, and Kumo had been beautiful but it hadn’t been _Konoha._ Tomorrow, or in a few days, he knows he’ll start to feel restless, but right now he can’t imagine ever wanting to leave again.

Shisui squalls, and Kagami turns towards a familiar road. “Just a little while longer,” he assures Shisui, because the doctor in Kumo had informed him talking to the baby was an important aspect of development. “We’re going to go meet your… aunt. Sort of. You’ll like her, probably. She’s scary.”

* * *

Koharu opens the door to him and lifts an eyebrow. “Thought you’d never make it into the village,” she says. She’s been out among the trees; her sleeves are rolled up and earth faintly streaks her arms, and her hair is twisted into a tighter bun than usual. “So this is your son?”

“Shisui,” Kagami affirms, and hands him over when Koharu holds out her arms. She’s never been the most nurturing of their team, but she at least knows how to hold a baby properly; she supports Shisui’s head as she gives him a once-over.

“Well,” she says, her tone mildly doubtful, “he looks healthy. Although what possessed you to have a child—”

“You’re one to talk,” Kagami says, leaning against the doorway. “How’s Tsunade doing?”

Koharu sighs heavily, which is answer enough. “All right,” she said, glancing behind her. “I’ll round up my team and get them to help out. We’ll be fine with him for the night.”

Kagami blinked. “Uh, you don’t have to—”

“Kagami,” she said, in the tone that meant he should shut up. He shut up. “Danzo’s been fucking insufferable for the past month, since we heard you were coming back. You’re fidgeting out of your skin.” She smirks and for a moment he can see her at sixteen, all brash assurance. “Go get laid.”

He fumbles for words, then settles for a mock salute. “If you insist.”

“I do insist. For our sake, if not yours.” She glances over her shoulder. “Dan’s here, and with the amount he’s been down at the hospital lately he’d better have picked up some rudiments of childcare. We’ll be fine.”

Shisui has seemed to have resigned himself cheerfully to Koharu replacing Kagami; quickly enough that Kagami feels mildly slighted, but he’d be lying if he said this isn’t what he’d hoped for. He says goodbye, allowing himself to be reassured that between four reasonably responsible shinobi and Homura’s adult supervision Shisui would survive the night, and heads down the road as twilight creeps through the trees. The path is even more familiar now, although one of the trees along the route has been struck by lightning in his absence. A few branches are dead but the rest are heavy with leaves, stubborn and proud in their enduring life. He touches the scarred trunk, and moves on.

* * *

 There is a part in all of them that never quite made it past eighteen, and that part in Kagami still thinks of the house as Tobirama’s. In reality it is Danzo’s now, and his, and would be Torifu’s if Torifu had lived past his twenties; in practice, only Danzo has used it consistently. That might change, Kagami considers, now that he has Shisui. He wants his son to grow up in Konoha, to raise his son in Konoha. To Shisui, he thinks, with a small clear shock of what shouldn’t be surprise but is, the house will only ever have been his and Danzo’s.

He stops by the door, lays his hand against the wood. It’s one of the oldest houses in the village, one of the three left that are rooted to the ground; he feels the life course through the wood under his fingers. A gentle pulse of his chakra, and black ink blossoms into visibility over the pale wood. Tobirama’s seals, and Mito’s, and Danzo’s—all similar yet distinct, drawn by different hands—move like shadows for a moment over the house, before the boundary seals recognize his chakra and fall back to invisibility and quiet. Kagami opens the door and goes inside, shutting it gently behind him. He goes straight forward, to where the door to Danzo’s office already stands open.

Danzo is bent over a letter, and looks up as Kagami pauses in the doorway. It is surreal and warming, recreating a tableau they’ve formed so many times. He might have only been gone a week. For a moment, they look at each other.

Kagami says, “Saru seems convinced we’re plotting something together.”

Danzo blinks at the broken silence, and flips the letter over. “Hiruzen,” he says, “is paranoid.”

“A bold accusation, from you.” Kagami comes into the room, watches as Danzo gets to his feet. He’s moving carefully, as if Kagami is something he needs to not scare away. “Are we plotting something, by the way? You know how I hate to be left out of these things.”

Now that he’s up, Danzo just stands there, looking down at his hands as if he doesn’t know quite what to do with them. “Of course,” he says, voice dry. He looks tired. “I predicted you would have a child and return to Konoha instead of remaining in Kumo for another year as an ambassador. All part of the plan.” He glances up at Kagami. “Speaking of the child…”

“I left him with Koharu. She offered.”

“How altruistic,” Danzo says. He still hasn’t moved but at least he’s looking at Kagami now, searchingly, as if he’d almost forgotten what he looked like. “Dan is with her tonight, at least, so you should get him back in one piece.”

Kagami considers the space between them still, the heaviness in the air. “You jealous?” he asks, the cadence deliberately childish.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Danzo says immediately. Over the years he’s gotten better at playing dumb, but there’s still that particular, practiced blandness to his voice. Kagami steps closer, puts his hand on Danzo’s wrist. Runs his thumb over the scar there, a bad wound from the slip of a knife. It may have receded a little; it’s hard to tell.

“Angry at me for being irresponsible, then?”

Danzo scoffs, although it trails off into something more like a sigh as Kagami runs his thumb over the scar again. “No. You explained already; you didn’t expect her to get pregnant. Although we are lucky she believed you when you told her half-Uchiha children didn’t often inherit the bloodline. Another village’s claim on a Uchiha child…”

Kagami brings Danzo’s wrist to his mouth and kisses the pulse point. “She also seemed markedly unenthusiastic about motherhood,” he says, against the skin. “And about me, when I asked her to keep the child. Only mollified when I promised to take him off her hands. Even if I go back, I doubt she’ll want anything to do with me.”

“Hm,” Danzo says, and “If you go back? You said you weren’t sure of how long you would return for.” He finally moves his hand, touching Kagami’s face with his fingertips, tracing the line of his jaw. His eyes are intent, making Kagami’s muscles tighten.

“I’ve been charming Kumo for long enough they ought to back us in the next conflict.” They both talk, these days, in terms of the next conflict; not whether, but when it would happen. “Hopefully that achievement will buy me a while at home. Not to mention, depending on how badly things flare up, it might be a lazy few years for diplomats.”

They’re both silent for a moment; the shadows of the First War rising up around them like ghosts, replete with implications for what the Second might bring, before Kagami shudders and reaches up to press Danzo’s hand against his face. “Forget I said anything. Let’s not talk about war.”

That, too, is only for tonight. Neither of them have the luxury of ignoring war for long. But Danzo inclines his head, wets his lips, and says, at last, carefully, “I have missed you.” The emphasis is slight, on the second word. As if he thinks Kagami may have doubted it.

When Kagami kisses him, it is like breaking another silence; almost like the first time he kissed him, under the fitful shadows of the blue oaks cornering a clearing that had retroactively been named and numbered as a training ground. Stillness, for a moment, before a response almost vicious in its hunger. Kagami yields gracefully, allows his back to hit the wall; this, like battle, is all about letting your partner direct you to the place you already wanted to be. Kagami has always been good at that. He twists a hand in Danzo’s hair, breaks the kiss in order to bare his throat. With a soft huff of laughter, shot through with something—relief, disbelief—that Kagami doesn’t care to analyze, Danzo presses his mouth against the unmarked line of it. Kagami knows from experience it will not stay unmarked for long.

“I have missed you.” Danzo says again, warm against his skin, and the words are raw now; unguarded.

Kagami closes his eyes, drags in a breath of sap-scented air. “I don’t doubt it.”

He cants his hips, drinking in Danzo’s ragged intake of breath, mind momentarily awash in nothing but satisfaction, a repetition of _finally, finally._ Through the walls he can hear the dim sounds of a Konoha summer night rising up, a bird complaining from somewhere far off, a litany that says _you have come home_ ; and this too, pushing aside cloth to find the scar that starts near Danzo’s collarbone and tracing it with his tongue, shuddering as Danzo’s fingers dig into his shoulder hard enough to leave bruises; this too is homecoming.


End file.
